Only When You Love Me
by ThisAccountIsNowInactive354085
Summary: Because they're just stupid teenage girls with stupid, selfish hearts. CourtneyXMiranda, mentions of CourtneyXWill and CourtneyXGinger.


**What can I say, I was watching As Told by Ginger, originally all for GingerXCourtney, but then I was like, there is SO much more room for CourtneyXMiranda, plus neither of them seem as straight as Ginger does…anyway, this is just experimental.**

**oOOOo**

**Only When You Love Me**

_**xXLiStLesSXx**_

**oOOOo**

It's sophomore year the first time it happens, and it feels like maybe it should have happened before now, like it's all so anticlimactic now that it's taken so long to build up.

Courtney's wasted and Miranda's ready to strangle Will Patterson (not that she particularly liked him _before_) for trying to lead her up to his bedroom to do things that make Miranda feel sick to her stomach for some reason she so _hasn't _been thinking about for the past forever or so. She kicks him where it counts as she grabs Courtney's wrist and yanks her down the stairs, feeling slightly guilty for using such force on her best friend only until Courtney opens her mouth.

"Mir-_randa_, what was that for? He wanted to show me his tr-tropy colleshion," Courtney slurs, and Miranda finds herself gripping the girl's arm even harder, to the point that the blonde lets out a quiet yelp of pain. Miranda almost wishes she felt guilty- what kind of person was she, if she could so easily hurt the person she lov- no, not loved.

Never loved.

But even so, rules like that never really apply to Miranda, not really. People aren't supposed to be able to be evil through-and-through, either, but Miranda feels like she's managed that one, too. It's all these adults and people in white labcoats that think everyone has to be boxed up, emotions have to be _sorted _and rational before they can be felt.

But there's nothing right or rational about how Miranda feels.

Even back in junior high, she made 'that Foutley girl's' life hell for the way she was always crushing on the same boys as Miranda, always being…well, _Foutley_. But it wasn't that, not really- it wasn't that at all. Ginger Foutley had managed to catch Courtney's attention in a way that Miranda once had, in a way that made Courtney take Miranda for granted. And Miranda hated her for it.

_Hated _her.

And maybe it wasn't only that- maybe it was the way Courtney's eyes always seemed to shine a little brighter around Foutley, or the hurt look she took on whenever Miranda _actually _managed to keep them apart. After a while she'd just stopped trying, because what use was keeping Ginger away from Courtney if all Courtney would do was wish she was there anyway?

"Mir-_randa_," Courtney repeats, forcing the dark-haired girl from her thoughts. "Where're we going, Mir-_randa_?" she asks, stumbling slightly as she tries to keep up with Miranda's brisk gate, and the other girl tries not to dwell too long on how adorable Courtney was as she tries to keep up her prim attitude, even while completely inebriated. Miranda does not find _anyone _adorable.

"I'm taking you home," she says coarsely. "Your mom's out tonight, right?" And Blake's over at Foutley's place, she knows; he's hardly around anymore, and Miranda sees how much it takes out of Courtney that her brother is so distant from her. High school's changed absolutely everything, they always knew it would, but she suspects they never thought it would happen so _fast_. "Courtney, you have to work with me, I can't _carry _you all the way."

Courtney giggles and falls against Miranda, sending them both toppling to the ground. "Then don't," she says, pressed against Miranda's front, just barely able to lift her own weight enough to steady herself above Miranda. She grins down at the darker girl, blonde hair falling into unnaturally shiny eyes, her glittering eye shadow illuminating her eyes in the silver moonlight, and as beautiful as it makes her seem, it makes her sadness more apparent than ever, as well. Here, now, drunk and senseless, Courtney is _Courtney _again for the first time since they entered high school. There are no fake smiles, no laughs at jokes that aren't funny to begin with, no flinging herself at whatever boy suits her needs.

And there's no one else, no Will Patterson, no Foutley. It's just Courtney and Miranda again, after so long, it's finally just them. "You're wasted Courtney," Miranda says when she sees the look in her best friend's eyes. Her heart should be speeding up here, she should feel like her entire existence has been leading up to this moment, like her life up until now was all just one bad teen romance novel and this is the happy ending.

But it doesn't.

Because it's just her and Drunk!Courtney, the girl who won't remember this in the morning, the girl who will always belong to someone else. Someone who's not Miranda.

"But I love you, Miranda," Courtney giggles, brushing a clumsy thumb over soft, full lips. "You know that."

"Do I?" she asks, then instantly scolds herself when Courtney's face falls, and the blonde resembles someone whose puppy has just been kicked to death. Miranda is just such a horrible person, really; what was she thinking, asking such questions of a drunk Courtney? Asking such questions of Courtney at _all_? "Sorry, Courtney, bad joke. Of course I know that."

And then Courtney _smiles_, smiles as if nothing's wrong, as if it really were that easy to accept Miranda's half-assed apology. She _smiles _and the stars go gray behind her and her brilliant blonde hair and beautiful, innocent smile.

And then everything's blurry, because Courtney's getting closer and closer, and Miranda can feel warm, vodka-scented breath against her lips, sending her into an extremely confusing state of euphoria mixed with bitter acceptance. She shouldn't let this happen- if she were any kind of good friend, she would push Courtney away.

But Miranda is such a horrible, selfish girl, and the thought is gone as soon as it's come, and a moment later it doesn't even matter anymore because she's not thinking at all.

**PGBR**

The second time is two years later, and at the time it feels like the end, like this is their goodbye to grade school forever.

Weird as it is, they're all at Foutley's house- her mom was out of town and Carl and Blake had long since disappeared. Courtney had talked her into 'living a little' just this once, 'for the sake of senior year'.

And currently, Courtney's standing by the bowl of spiked punch, laughing with Foutley as if she's just the funniest girl in the whole wide world.

Miranda hates herself for being so jealous all the time, for _caring _that Courtney is starting to spend less and less time with her and more and more time with Will Patterson. She hates that she's so obvious, hates that she can't hide her jealousy when Courtney actually _does _have time for her.

"_What do you want with me when you could be eating lunch with _Will_?"_

Courtney doesn't understand- she's always so _confused _when Miranda gets this way, and Miranda isn't sure whether to be grateful or insulted that her best friend seems to know her so poorly.

When Courtney wraps an arm around Ginger, Miranda's had enough, and she storms over to them, prying them apart, noticing all too clearly the nearly empty plastic cup Courtney's clutching like her lifeline.

She drinks so much nowadays, it's becoming her image, and Miranda just doesn't know what to think anymore.

"Move along, Foutley," she snarls, glaring when the red-head stares, and leads Courtney out to the porch. Sitting the girl down on the swinging bench, she holds her hand out for the cup. "Give it here, Courtney."

Courtney sighs and shoves the cup at Miranda, pouting petulantly, but by the time Miranda's set the cup down far away from the blonde, she's wearing a smug, knowing expression that Miranda _really _doesn't like the looks of.

"You don't have to be so jealous of Ginger, you know," Courtney declares, not quite wasted, but not exactly sober, either.

"I'm not _jealous _of _Foutley_," Miranda snarks, but Courtney only giggles and claims her arm, leaning heavily against Miranda's shoulder.

"You're rather cute when you're jealous, at least when you're not being such a bitch about it, Miranda," Courtney says, blunt as ever. Miranda huffs and folds her arms over her chest, waiting for the alcohol to really begin to affect Courtney so that she wouldn't have to deal with this side of her anymore.

And it's ten minutes later when she feels Courtney fall into her side, one leg swung over her lap, feels Courtney's warm, wet lips pressing to her collarbone, and she keeps up a stoic front, arms folded over her chest and staring straight out ahead of her. And then she sees Foutley staring right back. Staring at them, staring at Courtney, staring and staring and seeing through everything Miranda's tried so hard to cover up.

So she turns her head and allows Courtney what she so desperately wants, swings her legs up on either side of the blonde as if it doesn't mean a thing. They're just teenage girls, and this is what they do. They're only drunk, senseless teenage girls.

But Foutley knows Miranda isn't drunk- Miranda saw it in her eyes. And that's when nothing starts to matter anymore, because Foutley _knows_, and it's not as if she's going to tell anyone. No one will ever know.

No one will know about the time Courtney Gripling _almost_ belonged to her.

"I love you, Miranda," Courtney says an hour later, when they're all worn out and wasted and lying in a rather awkward position across Foutley's bed. She's hardly awake and keeps stroking Miranda's tricep for some odd reason, her head resting clumsily on Miranda's stomach.

"I know," Miranda replies, her fingers slipping through thin, blonde hair.

It's a lie- she doesn't know, but correcting Courtney would only be pointless. What was she going to _say_, anyway?

"_It's always been you Miranda. Let's just forget everyone else and run away."_

Miranda scoffs. Silly little dreams.

Courtney tilts her head up, meeting her best friend's dark gaze. "I do," she says.

"I love you too, Courtney," she replies, wishing it were actually as meaningless and natural as she makes it sound.

_I love you, I love you too, but we're only stupid, teenage girls with stupid, selfish hearts. Those words don't mean anything here. _

**PGBR**

Four years later and now it's _really _(finally) the last time. There were other times, too, so many and so blurry and so similar that she doesn't bother to count anymore.

It starts just the same as ever, and really it's what happens after that counts, as Courtney lies on her side, looking at Miranda with such affection that for a moment Miranda forgets she's wasted. But then, as gentle, pale fingers work their way through thick, dark hair, she catches a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye, and suddenly she feels sick.

She gets to her feet only to have a pair of slender arms latch around her waist. She sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself to be patient, to be _final_. It isn't as if she can't break free of the hold- Courtney had always been the weaker of the two, even before she stopped eating (and _damnit_, if _he _can't get her to love herself like she used to, she _will _destroy him). But it's not Courtney's strength holding her back.

It never has been.

"This is it, Courtney," she says quietly, in a gentle tone that only Courtney and maybe Darren Patterson (back when he mattered) have ever heard. "You knew it was."

"But I _love _you, Miranda," Courtney moans, her tone emphatic, as if she will simply _die _if Miranda won't believe her.

But that doesn't bother Miranda, because she _won't _die- she'll just wake up tomorrow morning and forget it all again (_again_), and she'll belong to Will Patterson.

And not Miranda.

Because Courtney's only Miranda's when she's wasted, when she's nobody else's problem.

Courtney's only Miranda's when she _loves _her, and Courtney only loves Miranda when she's drunk.

**How was that? Please review, I'm always so nervous when I try out a new fandom, and if I get enough positive feedback, I'm considering publishing an actual chapter fic!**


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